


Anniversary Dinner At Le Dragon Rouge

by Ladderofyears



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Anniversary, Boys In Love, Boys Kissing, Fluff and Humor, Frustrated Draco, Happy Ending, Light Angst, M/M, Mention of Off-Screen Nausea, Misunderstandings, Mpreg, Oblivious Harry, POV Harry Potter, Pregnant Draco Malfoy, Restaurants, Worried Harry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-17
Updated: 2020-01-17
Packaged: 2021-02-27 07:54:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,121
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22293658
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ladderofyears/pseuds/Ladderofyears
Summary: Harry is taking Draco, his boyfriend of three years, for an anniversary dinner atLe Dragon Rouge, the chic new restaurant on Diagon Alley. Harry is excited, hoping that their evening will be full of kisses, laughs and conversation. Draco, however, just isn't himself: the wizard seems flat, tired and disinterested. Putting two and two together, Harry decides that Draco no longer loves him and wants out of their relationship.Of course, Harry couldn't be more wrong...
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter
Comments: 15
Kudos: 731





	Anniversary Dinner At Le Dragon Rouge

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Kristarfweefweexd](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kristarfweefweexd/gifts).



> Dearest Kristarfweefweexd. Thank you for always being so kind and supportive. I hope you like this.

Harry huffed, frowning with mild irritation. He flicked his wand, casting a wordless Tempus charm. _Fifty-two_ bloody minutes. That was how long Draco had been in their bathroom. 

The vain sod loved beautifying himself and regularly enjoyed lengthy showers but _Merlin_. Nearly an hour? The situation was verging on the ridiculous. Normally Harry wouldn’t have minded about his boyfriend’s hygiene habits but today was their third anniversary. Harry had been absorbed in making their evening memorable and now it felt like his carefully made plans were on the verge of ruin. 

Draco, usually so punctual, seemed to be taking forever. 

The pair of them had dinner reservations in thirty minutes at _Le Dragon Rouge_ , a fashionable new French place that had just opened up off Diagon. The restaurant wasn’t Harry’s sort of thing at all, but as soon as he’d seen the adverts he’d wanted to take Draco. The food there looked both fancy and miniscule, whilst their prices were Vault-emptying expensive. Harry therefore deemed it perfect for his lover’s highbrow tastes. 

Draco would definitely enjoy telling Harry precisely what to eat, before ordering their food with immaculate French pronunciation. Everything about their upcoming evening should be perfect, but if Draco didn’t emerge soon, they were going to be late. Harry had really been hoping that the two wizards could make make the twenty minute walk by foot; taking in the late autumn air and the sights and sounds of wizarding London. Harry supposed they could take the floo but that wouldn’t be anywhere near as romantic. 

Oh well. As long as they got there on time. That was the most important thing. Harry cast a second Tempus charm. _Fifty-four minutes_. What was Draco up to in there? Nearly an hour was starting to get a touch concerning. Harry leapt up the stairs. 

“Draco, love,” Harry called, hammering on the bathroom door. “Everything okay in there? You’ve been there for nearly an hour.”

Draco didn’t reply immediately. The silence behind the door dragged until Harry finally heard Draco clear his throat. “An hour?... Bloody hell. That long? I’m fine, Harry. Just give me a sec.”

Everything went silent then, apart from the thoughts that began to creep around Harry’s head. Draco hadn’t sounded quite right. Hadn’t sounded quite like Draco. Normally his boyfriend had a bright, lively voice, full of the snappy self-confidence that had been bred into him since birth, but tonight Draco’s voice had sounded false, sounded hollow. Sounded wrong. Harry got out his wand and _Accio’ed_ his coat and shoes from their bedroom. Draco wouldn’t want him stood outside of the bathroom like a lurker when he finally appeared. 

Harry shook his head, trying his very best to dislodge the unwanted stream of negative thoughts that began to cascade through his brain. After all, Draco hadn’t said there was any kind of problem. This was their anniversary, they were going to _Le Dragon Rouge_ and they were going to enjoy themselves. Eat good food. Share a few snogs. Have a laugh. 

Harry wanted to make Draco smile and then, surely, everything would get back to normal? Harry hoped so. Thing was, Harry knew he had a talent for catastrophising: he could always be relied upon to find the most terrible outcome and focus entirely on that. 

No doubt if Harry told ‘Mione about his worries she’d shake her head and remind him that Draco loved him. Tell him just to talk to Draco. But Harry simply couldn’t. For all of his so-called Gryffindor bravery, Harry was anxious about the answers that Draco might give. Simply put, Harry didn’t want to hear Draco tell him that he was leaving him. Something _was_ different between the two of them and Harry felt like the last to know. 

Draco’s behaviour had changed considerably over the last few weeks. Sexual intimacy was a huge part of their life together, yet his boyfriend seemed more interested in sleep than anything else that might occur in bed. _Salazar_. The wizard was even falling asleep on the settee beside him most evenings. Harry felt like he'd become the most boring company on Earth. 

Even worse, Harry thought Draco was lying to him. There’d been a couple of occasions where Harry had firecalled Draco’s Apothecary, hoping to chat to his lover during his lunch hour. Harry had been told that Draco had gone home. 

“He looked awful,” the Apprentice had told Harry. “Told us he was going home for a nap.” 

But when Harry had mentioned it to Draco, the blond wizard had gotten visibly upset. “I’m wasn’t bloody ill, Potter,” he’d snapped, when Harry had questioned him. “Must you always fuss so much? If I’d wanted to live with my Mother I’d have stayed at the Manor.”

Harry hadn’t known what to make of Draco’s fibbing. Their whole relationship was based on the principle of honestly. Telling each other the truth had always been sacrosanct to the pair of them both. They’d both wanted a love that was true and honest after all the lies and heartbreak of the War. They’d wanted a love that was real. As far as Harry was concerned, Draco had never once lied to him before in their three year relationship. So what, exactly were these evasions and half-truths really about? 

Harry wasn’t sure he wanted to know. 

He shrugged on his coat and pulled on his shoes, wondering sadly whether this would be their last anniversary meal. Before putting his wand back in his back pocket, Harry cast a final Tempus. _Sixty-three_ minutes. He was just about to shout up to Draco, ask whether the other man wanted to floo instead when Draco appeared at the top of the stairs, looking as debonair and gorgeous as always. 

Draco was dressed in a thin, grey woollen jumper that was pulled over the top of a bottle-green shirt. Harry watched as Draco _Accio’ed_ his own coat and boots, and saw a look of mild worry rolling over his lover’s pointy features as Draco caught them neatly in his hands

“Draco, are sure you want to go out?” Harry queried, feeling a knot of concern grow in his belly. Draco’s eyes were tinged red at the edges and his face was already lined with tiredness. “We could get take-out if you preferred. Watch the Muggle telly… The restaurant can wait for another day.”

Draco descended the stairs and determinedly pulled on his boots. “You were terribly keen on _Le Dragon Rouge_ this morning,” Draco answered, lacing his boots. “Let’s go. We won’t have another third anniversary and Merlin only knows what we’ll doing this time next year… I’m ready now. I’d still like to walk if that’s okay? If we leave now we should still make it.”

The two wizards left Grimmauld Place as soon as Draco had buttoned up his coat. They walked along the cobbled pavements with their fingers knotted tightly together. The sun was setting as they walked along, painting magical London with a pleasant pink glow. Draco shivered and slid up close to Harry. The blond wizard always felt the cold keenly, and Harry knew that this was Draco’s usual trick when looking for comfort. 

Harry focussed his magic and cast a wandless warming spell over them both, wrapping their bodies in a net of heat. 

“That feels wonderful,” Draco murmured, wrapping an arm around Harry’s waist. “ _Mmmm_. Love your magic, Harry. Makes me feel safe.”

Harry loved hearing Draco speak like that. His boyfriend wasn’t usually a wizard to make great dedications of love, so every compliment felt precious. If Draco could still say things like that, then maybe Harry was overthinking things? Worrying unnecessarily? Harry thought it was very possible. 

Reaching out, he spun Draco lightly by the shoulder so that they were face to face with each other. “I love you,” Harry replied, pressing a chaste kiss on Draco’s lips. “I know that you’ve not been feeling so great recently love, but I just need to tell you I don’t want anything other than you, Draco. I love this life that we’ve made together.”

Draco returned Harry’s kiss, but then he pulled away far too quickly for Harry’s liking. He gave Harry an ambiguous, counterfeit smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. 

“Come on, Potter,” Draco said, deliberately stepping backwards to break Harry’s warming spell. “We need to move if we’re going to get to the _Le Dragon Rouge_ and still get seated.”

***

 _Le Dragon Rouge_ was every bit as beautiful as the _Prophet_ adverts had promised. Their Elf-Waiter seated them quickly and Harry couldn’t find a single fault with their table. 

Enchanted fairy lights were strung up above them. Splashy magi-modern art undulated and rippled gracefully over canvases that covered every wall. Their table was comfortably cosy and, best of all, hidden away in the corner exactly as Harry had requested. Harry truly didn't mind his admirers coming up to speak to him, but tonight he’d wanted privacy. 

Harry wanted tonight to only be about Draco, the wizard that he loved with every part of his heart. 

“Isn’t this brilliant?” Harry said, arranging his face in the widest of smiles as soon as their Elf-Waiter had departed. “The art’s by some of the most talented magical artists working today. Our table’s perfect isn’t it? They’ll be no-one asking for autographs tonight.” 

Harry felt his words dry up in the face of Draco’s very obvious upset. In the few minutes since Harry had tried to compliment Draco outside his boyfriend had been stubbornly, obstinately silent. Draco had petulantly refused to hold hands for the last few minutes of their walk to the restaurant, shoving them in his trouser pockets instead. Nothing about the evening felt fair. Harry had so wanted this meal to go well, yet somehow he’d managed to ruin everything without even knowing what he’d said. 

Harry smiled once more, hoping against hope that he could communicate his desires over to his lover but it was to no avail. Draco looked around and gave the restaurant his finest Lucius sneer, full of disinterest and boredom. 

“You don’t like it,” Harry said, reaching for the bread basket. Harry hated how full of frustration his voice sounded, but somehow he couldn’t seem to help it. “You liked it well enough when I showed you the advert.” He broke off a corner off his roll and buttered it aggressively. “You’re not really alright at all, are you Draco? I dunno what I’m supposed to have done but I don’t suppose you’re going to tell me any time soon-”

Draco lent back in his chair, and gave his Harry his favourite haughty glare. “Oh, I’m absolutely fine,” Draco replied in a nettlesome tone. “Of course, I doubt that answer will suit you. It might surprise you, Harry, but occasionally even the _Saviour_ can’t solve every problem that drops in his cauldron-”

Harry felt his heart race against his ribs and suddenly he felt very stupid. Draco did have a problem and for some reason, he hadn’t wanted to share it with him. There wasn't anything in Harry’s life that he wouldn’t tell Draco. His life was an open spell-book and he’d honestly believed that Draco’s was the same. Inside Harry’s mouth the bread tasted like dry clay in and he felt his cheeks colour in embarrassment. What on Merlin’s earth had possessed him to book this ridiculous meal? Draco was keeping secrets, was lying and he blatantly wasn’t interested in Harry’s company any more. 

Harry looked over the table at the wizard he loved, the man he’d hoped to spend the rest of his life with, and felt a lurch in his gut. Draco was unhappy. His boyfriend was shredding the piece of bread he held into a million pieces. His face looked thinner than it had during the summer and held a pinched, haunted look. Harry hardly noticed when the Elf-Waiter arrived take their drink order. 

“ _Chateau Peyredon Lagravette_ ,” Harry muttered, pointing dumbly at the wine menu, “the Cabernet Sauvignon. We’ll have the bottle, please.” 

Harry had chosen the wine earlier, wanting to impress Draco with a drink that Harry knew he’d enjoy. Draco normally teased Harry terribly about his preferring beer. Harry had wanted to show his boyfriend that he listened, that he wanted to try new things. _Salazar_. He must look like a prize prat right about now. 

Their Elf-Waiter was terribly eager to please and returned to their table in less that a minute, full of compliments about their wine choice. “Notes of robust cherries,” the Elf bustled cheerfully, pouring them both out an inch to try. “Sirs will be enjoying a very fine vintage!” 

Draco normally took wine very seriously, but today he pushed his glass to the side. 

“Would you be so kind as to bring me a bottle of fizzy water?" Draco asked the Elf-Waiter, giving Harry a pointed look. “I’m really not feeling like wine this evening.” 

Harry felt absolutely devastated. The sickening ache in his middle seemed to intensify, and this precious, bijou little restaurant that he’d chosen felt like nothing more than a tacky, foolish joke. Nothing had suited Draco this evening, not the wine, the food or his expressions of love. On every other occasion that they’d dined together Draco had always avidly scanned the menu, explaining all the funny terminology and translating the dishes. Draco would always tease Harry, joke about his ‘commonplace palate’, but Harry really hadn’t minded. He’d always felt loved, felt cared for. 

Now, as he looked over at his lover, Harry could that Draco’s heart wasn’t in their evening. 

Draco’s grey eyes scanned the menu but he looked far from pleased with the choices. He placed the menu down without saying a word and took a long drink of the fizzy water that their Elf-Waiter had scurried back with. 

_Merlin_. The only thing that could possibly have caused Draco’s distant, miserable demeanour was boredom. Disgust. Harry felt a horrible pain in his heart when realised what must be the truth: Draco wanted to break up with him. Harry felt his heart tear into shards. His head hurt like he’d been hit with the Cruciatus Curse. 

“I may not be able to solve every problem that drops in my _cauldron_ , but I’m sure that whatever is going on in your posh-arse head isn’t outside my capabilities.” Harry spat out, his voice sounding horribly childish and sarcastic. He couldn’t understand where his words were coming from, but they seemed to fly from his mouth, unbidden and cruel. He took a large gulp of his wine and gave his boyfriend a mock-toast with it. 

“To us! Three years together! Seems a pity to end our relationship in such nice surroundings, but then you always did have a flair for the dramatic, Malfoy! I only wish I’d listened to my friends. They always did say you’d break my heart but I was too idiotic to listen… Well, I suppose the joke’s on me. I always find it too easy to love-”

Draco cut him off then. His eyes narrowed in fury and every piece of colour had drained from his face. 

“You ignorant bloody prat. Mother did tell me that I’d regret falling for the most oblivious wizard that ever existed and it would seem that today is the day you’ve exceeded _all_ her expectations. You think that I’m leaving you? That I’ve come along to this restaurant for some sort of ruse? Circe’s bloody tits, Potter! How you ever managed to defeat Voldemort whilst only in possession of only half a brain is honestly beyond me-”

Harry sincerely couldn’t believe what he was hearing. His heart had been cursed into smithereens, yet here Draco was, talking as if he were the unreasonable one. 

“You haven’t been yourself for weeks!” Harry hissed in reply, shoving his wineglass down so hard that a crimson stain spread across the tablecloth. “I just wish you’d been truthful with me, Draco. Told me that you wanted to finish things before I made such a bloody great fool of myself this evening-”

Draco massaged his temple and gave Harry a look of pure fatigue. “So you really do believe that I’ve decided to finish our relationship? I’d blame all those curses that you’ve taken to the head, but your skull’s so thick that I can hardly believe they’re at fault-”

“You haven’t even attempted to enjoy yourself tonight, Draco,” Harry began, his tone defensive. Draco hadn’t reacted like Harry had thought he might and he felt wrong-footed. “Nothing has been good enough: not the food, the wine and especially my company. And you’ve been _off_ with me for ages. Every night you fall asleep. We haven’t had a decent conversation since the summer! Bloody hell, Draco. I miss you.” Harry tried to keep hold of his anger but it was slowly dissipating. “And I think you’ve lied to me, too. I know you’ve been leaving work early but you won’t admit that you’re ill. Love, if we’ve not got honesty, then we’ve not got anything-”

“Potter,” Draco interrupted, sitting forward in his chair, “could you please, for the love of Merlin, be quiet? Just for a moment? If you would? I’m _not_ ill and I’m _not_ leaving you. Not now, not ever. I assure you that leaving you is the very last thing I want.” Draco paused before swallowing a mouthful of water. Harry tried to reply, but Draco held up a hand, cutting him off. “I’m quite aware that I’ve been a moody, worn-out arsehole for the last few weeks, but I hope I’ve got good enough reason. The thing is, Harry, I'm pregnant… We’re pregnant. We’re going to have a baby.”

Harry felt the universe pause around him. Everything in the _Le Dragon Rouge_ seemed to stop entirely dead while Harry tried frantically to process the words that Draco had just spoken. Harry knew the words he thought he’d heard, but when spoken together Draco’s phrase didn’t make sense. Draco was supposed to be bored, wasn’t he? Supposed to be leaving him? Supposed to be breaking Harry’s heart?

In the space of a sentence Harry’s whole existence shifted. Harry felt dizzy, besotted and enthralled. Draco was pregnant. 

Draco was having his baby. 

“Goodness me, Harry,” Draco continued. “ _Do_ pick up your jaw. You were there at the conception too, as far as I recall? That weekend that we spent at Pansy’s Barcelona flat? We both drank far too many of those Muggle cocktails and it seems we were a little blasé about using contraception-”

“It was only the once,” Harry said, woozy under the weight of Draco’s words. “We’re normally pretty careful-”

“Well, it would seem that once was all your Chosen-sperm needed,” Draco replied, tension leaving his face as he spoke. “I know this isn’t what we planned on, Harry… And _yes_ , before you tell me off, I know I should have told you as soon as I had my suspicions. In my defence, pregnancy is a lot to take in. A lot to accept. I won’t be able to brew potions at work for the foreseeable future. Won’t fit in my _clothes_. I’m already as bloated as a bloody balloon-”

Harry looked over at his grumbling, gorgeous pregnant boyfriend and felt his chest swell with pride. _A baby_. A baby that would be a combination of the pair of them. A mixture of Draco and he. Would they have Draco’s temper? Draco’s clever brain? Harry imagined a tiny, blond-haired toddler, scowling and telling-off the world. The idea made him grin. Though unexpected, Harry knew he was ready for this gigantic step. Harry loved children. Adored babies. Having a family to call his own had always been essential to Harry. This had always been the road that he’d hoped Draco might choose to take with him eventually. 

Well. It seemed like their eventually had arrived rather sooner than either wizard had planned. 

“So that’s why you’re always sleeping,” Harry interrupted, knowing he sounded rather dopey but not caring a single Sickle. “You’re having our baby.”

“ _Such_ deductive skills, Potter. I understand now how you were made Deputy Chief Auror. Britain’s Dark Wizard population must cower in fear.” Draco teased before reaching over the table and covering Harry’s hand with his own. “You must know I don’t want to leave you Harry. Must know that I love you, you daft bloody arse.”

Harry felt his heart race at Draco’s words. Without even realising, Harry found himself out of his seat. He pulled Draco into an embrace and a very heated, very passionate kiss. Harry felt the last drop of annoyance leave Draco’s body and the curve of his lover’s smile beneath his lips. 

“I love you too,” Harry said, pulling away just enough to speak. “With all of my soul. I know this isn’t what we planned, but it’s brilliant news, Draco. It is. We’ll figure everything out together. Being with you is all I’ve ever really wanted. You and the baby. I know I’ve not been wonderful tonight Draco. It’s just… I got frightened. I thought that you’d lost interest in me. Thought you wanted out.”

Draco shook his head and he raised a hand to lightly cup Harry’s jaw. 

“Always so daft. Well. I suppose that’s partly my fault,” Draco admitted. “I know tonight has been dreadful for you but I just feel so nauseous all the time. It shouldn't be called morning sickness when you feel poorly every moment of the day. Even the idea of food makes my tummy flip. I ought to have known that any child of Harry Potter would be _entirely_ exasperating… I don’t know. I’m happy. Excited too, I think. Shocked. I’m pleased about the baby but also terribly worried. Our whole lives are going to change-”

Harry couldn’t help himself. Suddenly he was disrupting his lover’s words with a dozen more kisses, pressing his lips everywhere he could reach. Harry’s blood was racing madly through his veins and whole body was awash with a million emotions. In less than five minutes Harry had risen from the deepest pit of despair to knowing he was going to be a father. He felt like he’d caught a thousand snitches; like wouldn’t need a broomstick to soar though the skies. 

Draco was talking about their future and their baby. Their _family_. A million thought rushed though his brain all at once and Harry broke their kiss once more. 

“We’ll have to make the family bond,” Harry said, excited and reverent. “Narcissa would be scandalised otherwise. And decide which room to make into a nursery. I know that Hermione will have plenty of advice on the right baby-proofing spells too… And we’ll have to go to St. Mungos, get you the best, most specialist care. I need you and out baby to be well looked-after and-”

Harry thought he might have continued in much the same manner had their Elf-Waiter not decided to make that the moment he returned to their table. “ _Will_ Sirs be ready to order now?” he asked, looking aghast at the sight of Harry out of his seat and knelt beside Draco. “Jonty isn’t understanding if Sirs are happy?”

“Sirs are very happy,” Draco assured the Elf while Harry composed himself enough to return to his seat. “If we could have another five minutes? We just had a tiny little thing we needed to discuss before settling on food choices.” 

Everything about the previous few weeks now made so much more sense to Harry, and he perused the menu with unseeing eyes. Draco’s exhaustion and disappearances from work had been because of their baby. His words outside the restaurant- _I love this life that we’ve made together_ \- hadn’t really been wrong either. They’d just hit a nerve with his lover. Even choosing their wine hadn’t been a mistake: Draco couldn’t drink alcohol for a while. 

Harry still felt pretty foolish. He’d jumped to absurd conclusions and let his worse fears take a hold of him. He’d said things that Draco didn’t deserve to hear and that he hadn’t truly meant. In their three years together, Draco had never been anything less than loving and Harry didn’t want that to ever change. Harry resolved to try his damnedest be less impetuous in the future. Think a little more before his emotions took over his rational thoughts. 

After all, he was going to be a dad. 

Harry picked up Draco’s hand and bought it to his lips, brushing a kiss across the back of his boyfriend’s fingers. “Happy anniversary, Draco.” Harry said. “I’m overjoyed about the pregnancy. We’ll be great parents, love. You’ve made me the happiest wizard in the world.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading xxx


End file.
